


deep in her eyes i think i see a future

by Chocchi



Series: hold my heart in your hands [1]
Category: Persona 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocchi/pseuds/Chocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years down the road, Takeba Yukari and Kirijo Mitsuru meet at the altar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	deep in her eyes i think i see a future

**Author's Note:**

> "This was SO....GAY!!!!!" -my beta's official statement on this fic  
> a few things of note before you read-  
> 1) **western vs shinto wedding:** i did not forget that the persona 3 characters are japanese! i made the conscious decision to give yukari and mitsuru a (secular) western-style wedding after an admittedly very brief investigation into the subject. according to what i looked at, western weddings are as popular as or more popular than shinto weddings in modern japan, and i thought it was reasonably in line with yukari and mitsuru's characters to choose a western wedding rather than a shinto wedding. also, it would have taken a lot more time and research for me to be able to write a properly respectful and accurate shinto wedding, because i know nothing about them.  
>  2) **legal standing:** gay marriage is not currently legal in japan, to my knowledge, so i guess this takes place in some hazy unknown future or alternate universe?  
>  3) **last names:** APPARENTLY it's actually NOT LEGAL to hyphenate your last names in japan! someone's gotta take someone's name. but i couldn't figure out who would take whose name so i just kind of.... ignored that.  
>  4) **publicity:** in line with the apparent arena canon (which i have not played), yukari is a model/actor and mitsuru is on her way to taking over kirijo co. for the sake of their careers, their relationship was not public prior to the wedding. i'm just mentioning this bc it's kind of vague in the fic but might explain a few lines.  
>  5) **rating:** there is a little bit of implied nsfw at the end, but i don't think it's enough to push the rating up to mature? let me know if you have a different opinion, just thought i'd give a heads-up.

“Listen,” Akihiko says. “I know this is the most important day of your life or whatever, but isn’t it a little late to be going bridezilla on us?”

Mitsuru gives him a scathing look without pausing in her attempts to wrestle her cell phone back from him. She _needs_ to make sure the flower arrangements company has properly completed their job. “It’s not the most important day of my life; that would be shallow and--”

“That was the wrong part of the sentence for you to latch onto,” Akihiko says. “I’m just saying, I’ve already been in there, the company did a good job, everything looks fine.”

“Maybe I don’t trust your judgement,” Mitsuru snaps.

“That’s hurtful,” Akihiko says, but he doesn’t actually seem very hurt, so Mitsuru isn’t going to bother feeling guilty about it. Not until later, at least. “Can you trust Shinji’s judgement? He thought it looked nice.”

Mitsuru feels her face pinch in reluctant consideration. “...It’s all according to the plans?”

“I didn’t check exactly, but--”

“Check it exactly, then.”

“Mitsuru, for heaven’s sake. It looks great. The flowers and the decorations are up, everyone’s here and nobody has managed to rip or spill on their clothes yet, the catering company is still on track for the reception. You need to calm down.”

“It has to be perfect, though,” Mitsuru says, dragging her hands down her face. “I have to make sure it’s perfect.”

“Mitsuru--”

“Not because it’s _my_ wedding,” she adds. “Because it’s _Yukari’s_.”

“Oh, god, I walked in on the sappy part of the wedding panic, didn’t I,” Shinjiro says, from the doorway. Akihiko seizes on Mitsuru’s momentary distraction to toss her cell phone to Shinjiro, dodging out of the way of her resulting sucker punch. “Why am I holding this?”

“Don’t let her harass the people doing the flowers,” Akihiko says, muffled by the headlock Mitsuru has him in.

“They already did their job,” Shinjiro says. “It looks good.”

“ _Good_ isn’t--”

“--If you say ‘good enough’ I will walk right back out of this room and tell Takeba you’re getting cold feet.”

“Geez, Shinji, that’s a little harsh,” Akihiko says, prying Mitsuru off him now that she’s frozen in dismay.

“Harsh is the only thing that’s gonna get us through the next half hour,” Shinjiro says. “Is it time for me to be grabbing Yoshino to do your hair?”

“Yes,” Mitsuru says, slumping down in the nearest chair in defeat. Shinjiro ducks back out of the room, taking her phone with him. Damn him. “Akihiko, did you see where my veil went?”

“It’s right here,” Akihiko says. He scoops it off the back of another chair, plastic cover rustling as he lays it on the vanity table. “Hey. Look at me for a sec.”

She complies, miserably.

“Yukari will be happy no matter how the flower arrangements look, or how badly the catering company fucks up the reception,” Akihiko says, “Because at the end of the day, she’s going to be married to you.”

“But she _deserves_ for everything to be perfect,” Mitsuru says, and refuses to admit to herself that her voice is edging on whiny at this point. “Just because she’d still be _happy_ if something went wrong--”

“Yeah, I get it,” Akihiko says. “But you did your best, alright? It’s out of your hands now. You gave your best shot, and now you have to roll with the punches. She loves you, Mitsuru. _It’s going to be okay._ ”

 

“The catering van could get into an accident, Junpei could trip into a table and take out half the decorations in a domino effect, Mitsuru or I could trip and sprain our ankles walking down the aisle, I could forget my vows--”

“The fuck is going on in here?” Shinjiro demands.

“Shh,” Junpei hisses. “Let her get it out of her system.”

“-- _Mitsuru_ could forget her vows and I would get upset even though I understand, Mitsuru could accidentally step on my train and yank my dress down, _I_ could accidentally step on _Mitsuru’s_ train and yank her dress down, I could accidentally step on my _own_ train and yank my own damn dress down, Minako could decide to object just because she thinks it’s funny--”

“Hey,” Minako says, the very picture of offense. “I wouldn’t do th--”

“--Catering could spill all over someone’s dress, reporters could break into the venue and ruin everything--”

Minato cracks his knuckles, eyes narrowing.

“-- _Shadows_ could break into the venue and ruin everything--”

“Takeba-san,” Chidori says. “None of that is going to happen.”

“But it _could_ ,” Yukari says, sullenly, sinking further down in her chair. The asymmetrical back of her dress drapes down to the floor, itching at the backs of her ankles. 

“You’re both as bad as each other,” Shinjiro says. “Yoshino, you’re on deck for Kirijo prep.”

“Alright,” Chidori says. She lays a hand briefly on Yukari’s shoulder as she goes by. It’s awkward, but Yukari appreciates the attempt at comfort. If nothing else can be said about Chidori’s ability to socialize with members of SEES who aren’t Junpei, she _tries_ really hard, and Yukari can respect that.

“How’s Mitsuru?” Yukari asks Shinjiro, weakly.

“She’s losing her shit because she’s convinced someone is going to mess up your big day,” Shinjiro says. “But that’s Akihiko’s problem right now, so don’t worry about it.”

“Who ever said the day you get married is the happiest day of your life?” Yukari whines, letting her head loll against the back of the chair. “I’m so stressed right now.”

“I’ve heard it gets better after the actual wedding starts,” Minako offers.

Yukari makes a sad, fretful noise at her.

“We would totally mop the floor with any shadows that showed up, anyway,” Junpei says.

“Dammit, Iori, you’re not helping,” Shinjiro says. He grabs Yukari’s shoes from where they’re waiting by the door, and snags her veil on the way across the room, sitting heavily on the low table in front of Yukari’s chair. “How are _you_ doing? Feet getting chilly?”

“NO!” Yukari blurts out, bolting upright in her chair in horror at the very idea. Shinjiro snorts, and Yukari realizes, sheepishly, that in her pre-wedding panic she had completely missed that the question was a joke. “No, I’m ready for… For the commitment, you know? I’m ready to spend my life with her. I _want_ to. I want to be married to her _so bad_. It’s just….”

“The actual wedding,” Minako says.

“The actual wedding,” Yukari agrees, with a sigh. She sinks back into the chair. “I just want everything to go the way it’s supposed to for once, y’know?”

“It’s gonna be _fine_ , Yukaricchi,” Junpei says. He strides over to hop onto the arm of Yukari’s chair. Yukari puts some serious consideration into pushing him off onto the ground, but a) he’s her best man, and she wouldn’t forgive herself for ruining his suit, and b) he starts massaging at her closest shoulder and wow okay that actually feels pretty nice, he can keep doing that. “Mitsuru-san thinks you hung the moon, as long as she gets to put a ring on your finger the rest won’t matter.”

“Alright, you know what,” Shinjiro says. “I just walked out on the first part of this exact conversation in the other room, so let’s stop this right here: Takeba and Kirijo will both be upset if something goes wrong. It’s your fucking wedding. You want it to be nice.”

“Shinjiro!” Minako cries. “Who’s not being helpful now?”

“I’m being _honest_ ,” Shinjiro says. “Of course you’ll be happy to be married to each other at the end of the day, that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset when the ceremonial part doesn’t go according to plan.”

“I’m really conflicted between being mad at you for validating my concerns,” Yukari says, “And being grateful to you for validating my concerns.”

_He’s gotta keep you on your toes_ , Minato signs, smirking.

“You both want everything to be perfect for each other, and that’s _fine_ ,” Shinjiro says. “But sometimes life just doesn’t fucking work out that way. And that’s whatever. You’ll roll with it. Nothing Junpei does to the decorations can be any worse than the time you _stopped the fucking apocalypse_.”

“That’s true,” Yukari says, reluctantly. “Kind of completely different levels of problems, though.”

“Well, you got to kiss Mitsuru-san at the end of both of them, so there’s at least one point of connection,” Junpei says, brightly, switching to massage Yukari’s other shoulder. “Survive stopping the apocalypse, you get to kiss Mitsuru-san; survive your wedding, you get to kiss Mitsuru-san. Bam.”

“Is it too late to get new friends and change the rest of the bridal party?” Yukari asks Shinjiro.

“Unfortunately,” Shinjiro says, “I think you’re stuck with these ones.”

 

“I’m gonna die,” Yukari whispers, barely audible over the orchestra. “I’m so nervous.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Shinjiro whispers back. Yukari clings more tightly to his arm so she doesn’t crush the bouquet in her other hand. The bridal procession is starting, and Yukari watches as her friends straighten themselves out, hooking arms and smoothing skirts. “Not allowed. Kirijo would blame me somehow, and then she would murder me.”

“No she wouldn’t, we put too much effort into keeping you alive the first time,” Yukari says. At the front of the procession, Aigis and Ken slip out. Ken is so tall now, Yukari thinks, momentarily distracted by a wave of fondness. He’s graduating soon. The suit he’s wearing is a grown man’s suit. Hopefully, the rest of the guests will be similarly distracted by Ken’s imminent adulthood, and forget to pay attention to the discrete alterations that had to be made to Aigis’s bridesmaid dress.

Akihiko and Minako go next-- they both twist to glance back over their shoulders before they go, Minako blowing them a quick kiss while Akihiko gives Shinjiro a wink. Shinjiro makes a soft noise of mock disgust. Aside from the setting, it’s a familiar scene. Yukari relaxes a little bit more, distracted by fondness again. This is it, she thinks, easing her grip on Shinjiro’s arm a little. This is her wedding. These are her friends. She’s going to marry Mitsuru, and everything is going to be alright, one way or another.

“See you at the other end, Yukaricchi,” Junpei whispers, waggling his eyebrows at her absurdly. Fuuka giggles, trying and failing to muffle it into her hand before Junpei is hauling her through the doors and down the aisle.

Next goes Maiko-- Minako roped the poor girl into it, Yukari doesn’t know her all that well and she’s a little on the old side for a flower girl, but Yukari and Mitsuru don’t exactly know that many young girls these days-- and Koromaru, who has the cushion with the rings somehow balanced perfectly on his back.

Look. Koromaru is a reliable dog, and Ken is too old to be a ring bearer. Sometimes you have the right social connections in your life, and sometimes you just have to let your dog carry your wedding rings.

“Moment of truth,” Shinjiro says. “Last chance to back out.”

“Not on your life,” Yukari says, tilting her chin up defiantly.

“I wouldn’t bet on my life, personally,” Shinjiro says, and _maybe_ it’s in bad taste to kick the guy who’s walking you down the aisle in the shins, but really, he deserved it. “Ow!”

“All rise for the bride,” the minister calls, and Yukari sucks in her breath as Shinjiro leads her out through the door.

This, she thinks, is what everyone talks about. She’s _aware_ of the rest of the room. The wedding march plays, vibrant and enthusiastic, in the background. The flowers and decorations are all the right colors, in the right places. The flower petals Maiko has scattered on the ground are soft and pretty and enhance the atmosphere exactly the way they’re supposed to. In the front rows of the hall, she can see her mother and Mitsuru’s standing side by side; Yukari’s mom looks half a second away from crying, while Kirijo-san just smiles warmly and softly, like she’s always known this day would come. They’re surrounded by friends and family, all eyes on Yukari. Her skirt floats behind her, safely away from the heels of her shoes, as Shinjiro slowly walks her down the aisle.

She’s _aware_ that all of this is happening. She might even remember some of these details later.

But none of them matter, because there, standing at the altar, is Kirijo Mitsuru.

Waiting for Yukari.

She’s _gorgeous_.

The light through the windows catches on the cut crystal in Mitsuru’s veil and the edges of her wedding gown; she’s positively _glowing_. She looks, Yukari thinks almost hysterically, nothing short of angelical. If Mitsuru sprouted wings right now, they would look perfectly at home with her elegant white dress and the silver halo of her veil.

Mitsuru smiles at her, bright and wondrous, like _she’s_ the lucky one here, and Yukari thinks, all at once: _oh god, I adore her and she’s mine now_.

“Oh,” Yukari breathes, feeling a little like she’s been sucker-punched in the gut. Next to her, arm still linked through hers, Shinjiro huffs out a laugh.

_She’s all mine_.

Yukari doesn’t know whether the walk up the aisle takes an eternity or thirty seconds. She just knows that they’re here now, and Shinjiro’s arm is slipping away from hers to leave her standing face to face with Mitsuru. Peripherally, she sees him step to the side, flanking Akihiko on Mitsuru’s side of the altar.

“You look beautiful,” Mitsuru mouths, reverently. Yukari feels oddly lightheaded, like she could wake up at any second and it would all have been a dream. It’s too good to be true. Everything feels syrupy and dizzyingly sweet, reminiscent of the way the Lovers shadow made her feel on a full moon in July so many years ago now. Yukari kissed Mitsuru on that day, too; too early and too much.

This time, there’s no catch. It’s not a trap. Nothing is too early, too much. It’s just Yukari and Mitsuru, here together after all these years, standing across from each other on an altar with bouquets clutched in their hands. They’re ready. It’s time.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister starts, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Kirijo Mitsuru and Takeba Yukari...”

 

Mitsuru gets halfway through her vows before she notices it.

Yukari is _crying_.

Her first, instinctive reaction is panic. The wobbly lower lip and tearful eyes are, after all, usually a bad thing. But when she pauses, starts to falter in her words--starts to automatically reach out for Yukari, to steady her-- Yukari blinks, like she hadn’t realized it was happening, and straightens up. She gives Mitsuru a watery smile, lips still trembling.

She’s _happy_ , Mitsuru realizes. It’s like she’s been hit with a brick. Takeba Yukari is so happy to be marrying her that she’s crying.

Mitsuru swallows, thickly, feeling a little overwhelmed with emotion herself, but manages to keep her voice from cracking as she continues saying, “And I swear I will spend the rest of my life doing my best to do right by you--to protect you, to care for you, to listen to you, to love you--”

 

“Aw, hell,” Akihiko mumbles, trying to wipe discretely at his eyes.

“Shh,” Shinjiro says, elbowing him without any real aggression behind it. Figures, he thinks, that Takeba crying would set Aki off. Fuuka and Minako were also expected. Iori, starting to sniffle on the other side of the altar, is a bit more of a surprise, but it’s fine.

Shinjiro brought plenty of tissues for everyone.

 

Yukari still feels like her head is in the clouds, but the clouds must have her vows written on them, because she doesn’t forget them.

“And I _promise_ ,” she says, her voice cracking despite the minimal effort she’s putting into not having that happen, considering that saltwater tracks have been etching their way down her cheeks for the last twenty minutes. “To trust you and respect you, to look after you in sickness and in health, and to share both the good times and bad, because if it’s with you, I can make it through _anything_. I want you in my life today and forever, for--for as long as we both shall live--because I’ve never loved anyone so _much_ before but I can’t think of anyone I trust more to hold my heart in their hands and not to break it. B-because I know you’ll always be on my side, in your own way.”

Mitsuru hasn’t fallen prey to tears like Yukari has, or even Akihiko, over Mitsuru’s shoulder (Shinjiro, suspiciously bright-eyed himself, has been elbowing him every time he goes to wipe at his face. Yukari has been focusing on them whenever she thinks she’s in danger of bursting into sobs in the middle of her vows. It’s surprisingly effective). She started looking even _more_ awed around the time Yukari teared up, though, and it’s just gotten worse and worse the further into Yukari’s vows they’ve gotten.

Yukari wonders what her life would be like if she’d never gotten to this moment, where she feels like she could drown in the sheer adoration in Mitsuru’s gaze. There were so many different ways things could have gone, she thinks.

She’s so glad none of them happened.

“Kirijo Mitsuru,” the minister says. “Do you take Takeba Yukari to be your lawfully wedded wife and partner?”

“I do,” Mitsuru says, softly, her eyes never leaving Yukari’s face.

“Takeba Yukari, do you take Kirijo Mitsuru to be your lawfully wedded wife and partner?”

“I do,” Yukari hiccups.

“Gentlemen, if I may have the rings?” Junpei and Akihiko step forward, passing Yukari and Mitsuru’s respective rings to the minister. Yukari’s resolve not to start crying harder wavers when she sees the ring her father gave her mother in the minister’s hand, and then, abruptly, Mitsuru’s.

“Kirijo-san, place the ring on Takeba-san’s finger and repeat after me,” the minister says. Yukari can feel her hand shaking as Mitsuru takes it, delicately, and starts sliding the ring onto Yukari’s finger. “Yukari, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love…”

“Yukari,” Mitsuru says. Her eyes are sharper, suddenly. There’s raw intent. Driven passion. The words she says now are words she _means,_ from the deepest part of her heart. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.”

“May it remind you always that you have my heart.”

“May it remind you always that you have my heart.”

Yukari is starting to feel a little weak-kneed. She can’t be, she thinks, she still has to get through this and give Mitsuru her _own_ ring and then sign the papers.

“I will love you and protect you in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad… As much when we are apart as when we are together, you will have my love. Now and forever.”

Yukari wants to cling to Mitsuru’s hand when she takes it away, but satisfies herself by quickly snatching up Mitsuru’s own left hand. Mitsuru’s eyes go a little wide at the sight of her mother’s wedding ring, as well. By the grace of some distant god--Minako knows more than she does, maybe Yukari will ask her about wedding gods later-- Yukari’s voice only cracks once when she’s echoing the minister.

“Kirijo-san,” the minister says, “Takeba-san. As guests, today we have witnessed your union, in a relationship based on unshakeable trust and unconditional love. In addition to a celebration, the wedding is a legal ceremony, and I must now ask you to sign the marriage certificate. May the maids of honor please step forward and join us at the table.”

Minako and Fuuka dart forward. Fuuka looks like she’s been doing a little crying of her own; Minako is sniffling determinedly, chin held high.

“I ask that Kirijo-san and Takeba-san sign the documents before them, in legal confirmation of their union.”

Mitsuru’s hand skids a little as she signs, narrowly avoiding smudging the ink. Yukari can’t judge her. She doesn’t do much better, with her shaking hands.

“I ask the maids of honor to sign the license as witnesses to this moment.”

Fuuka signs first. As she does, Minako catches Yukari’s eye over the table and mouths, _I’m so happy for you_.

Yukari feels like she’s going to burst from sheer joy.

“By the power vested in me,” the minister says, “I now joyfully pronounce you legally bonded as wife and wife. You may now kiss the br--”

There’s no other way to say it: Mitsuru _lunges._

Yukari throws her arms around Mitsuru’s neck as they make impact, Mitsuru’s arms curving around her back like they were made to fit there, like Mitsuru is her missing puzzle piece, and Yukari shrieks a little bit in delight as Mitsuru _dips_ her. Her veil flutters up over her face on its own with the movement, so there’s nothing in the way when Mitsuru’s lips seal over Yukari’s with such ferocity that Yukari thinks, dizzily, that Mitsuru seems prepared to _lick_ her soul right out of her through her mouth. It’s hot and wet and she can feel Mitsuru’s lipstick smudging off on her lower lip, can hear Junpei and Minako whooping and cackling behind them as Mitsuru dips her relentlessly _lower_.

Yukari has had a lot of good moments in her life. She will have many more. This is not the most important moment that will ever happen to her; this is not the limit for how happy she will ever be again.

But it is a good moment, this moment that is happening right now, and god, _has_ she ever been so happy before?

The kiss drags on and _on_. Finally, Shinjiro reaches forward and drags Mitsuru back by the shoulder, to a roar of laughter from the guests. Yukari, even more lightheaded from forgetting to breathe into the kiss, sways after her dazedly.

“If you will all stand,” the minister calls, to the assembled guests, “It is my honor and pleasure to present to you Takeba-Kirijo Yukari and Mitsuru!”

The guests leap to their feet, cheering and clapping. Yukari barely notices them. She barely notices Junpei thumping her on the back.

“I love you so _much_ ,” Mitsuru says, sounding almost shell-shocked, as though she, too, can’t quite believe how happy she is.

“Mitsuru,” Yukari says, unable to form a real coherent thought. And whoops, there go the tears again, but it doesn’t matter, because Mitsuru leans forward again to kiss them away.

“Alright, alright,” Shinjiro says, hauling Mitsuru back once more when it becomes apparent that she’s ready to try licking Yukari’s soul out through her mouth again. “Come on, you still have to take pictures and get back out of here, break it up.”

“I dunno,” Yukari starts, then has to steady herself with a hand on Mitsuru’s hip, take a deep breath and try again. “I dunno if we can take pictures right now, I think our lipstick got a little, um.”

“ _Um_ is right,” Minako says, grinning wildly despite the moisture in danger of spilling out of her eyes. “ _Get it_ , Yukari!”

Chidori has threaded her way out of the seats up to the altar, and says, “If you can stand to keep your hands off each other for a bit, I can fix it for you--I have the makeup in my purse.”

“Bless you, Chidori-san,” Yukari says. Chidori takes out a pack of tissues, a little spray bottle of water, and Yukari and Mitsuru’s lipsticks. Mitsuru takes her left hand and threads their fingers together while Yukari stays obligingly still, letting Chidori carefully wipe at the smudges and touch up the lipstick. At least she had the foresight to use waterproof mascara and eyeliner.

Most of the guests are meandering their way out of the venue, en route for the reception next. Their mothers are waiting patiently for the photo session to start. Fuuka, Aigis, Ken and Koromaru have drifted together, chatting easily, Fuuka patting her cheeks dry and laughing merrily at something Ken says. Junpei hovers at Chidori’s shoulder as she works, trading lighthearted banter with the Arisato twins.

Shinjiro, reassured that Mitsuru and Yukari aren’t going to derail their own wedding schedule by making out, has pulled Akihiko to the side to mop at his face with tissues. Akihiko isn’t cooperating-- he’s leaning heavily into Shinjiro’s space instead, nose practically pressed up against Shinjiro’s shoulder. Shinjiro tries to pry him away, but eventually gives up and opens his arms so Akihiko can curl into them, against him.

“Aww,” Yukari says, unthinkingly. Chidori grabs her jaw to hold her still and tuts scoldingly.

“He always did call Akihiko a crybaby,” Mitsuru says, sounding amused.

“If Akihiko-san is a crybaby, what does that make me?” Yukari huffs, when Chidori finishes up with her and goes to throw away the used tissues before starting in on Mitsuru. It’s not a competition, but she’s pretty sure she cried more.

“A bride,” Mitsuru says, soothingly. Then, her voice lower and smoother, “ _My_ bride.”

Behind her, Minako whistles cheekily and Minato gives Yukari a smirk. His handsigns move too fast for her, with her eyes still tear-bleary, but she manages to catch _wedding_ and _night_ consecutively. Her face flushes bright red in an instant. Damn Arisatos.

When Mitsuru’s touch-ups are done, the photo session starts, with Chidori holding the camera. They shuffle in and out of various groups. The pictures with their mothers go first, so they can move on to the reception venue; then the big group picture of the wedding party, Yukari and Mitsuru trapped in the center of a laughing pile of their friends; Yukari with her classmates, Junpei and Minako’s arms wrapped almost as perfectly behind her back as Mitsuru’s had earlier; Mitsuru with Akihiko and Shinjiro; Mitsuru and Yukari solo, serious, then smiling, then kissing, then _kissing_ , and Shinjiro shakes his head in fond exasperation when he pulls them apart again.

“Look at her,” Mitsuru insists. “Can you blame me?”

 

The speeches at the reception, Shinjiro thinks, are good. Akihiko’s he’s already heard, since Aki practiced with him. It was touching and emotional and supportive in all the right proportions. It’s miraculous, considering how awkward Akihiko can be. Yamagishi’s speech is similarly charming. Minako’s gets a little bawdier, but veers away from any outright dirty jokes or embarrassing stories, much to the relief of a red-faced Takeba. Iori’s is going well, much in the same vein as Minako’s, right up until he gets to the end and--

Oh, hell, waterworks.

“Aw, man,” Iori sputters, laughing around a hiccup. “Shit. I’m just--I’m so damn happy for you, Yukaricchi, you really deserve this, I’m so proud--”

“ _Junpei_ ,” Takeba says, tears immediately starting to well up again. “Junpei--”

“A toast!” Minako cries, leaping up in her seat. “To Takeba-Kirijo Yukari and Mitsuru, and their happy union!”

The reception breaks into cheers and clinking glasses right as Iori and Takeba simultaneously burst into tears.

“Iori, please don’t make my wife cry,” Mitsuru says. It would probably work better if she wasn’t getting hung up on the smug satisfaction of calling Takeba her _wife_ , lips curling up in a pleased smile. Takeba practically throws herself at Mitsuru, burying her sobs in Mitsuru’s neck.

It would be cuter if Shinjiro hadn’t been intimately acquainted with how damp and uncomfortable getting cried on is in the last hour.

“Fuck,” Akihiko mutters, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. Maybe Shinjiro is in imminent danger of getting cried on yet again.

“I know I call you a crybaby, but I haven’t seen you cry this much at once since we were little brats,” he says. He slips a tissue packet out of his pocket and blots at Akihiko’s face uselessly. Akihiko turns his face into Shinjiro’s hand.

“S’not true,” he says, eyelids fluttering closed when Shinjiro crumples up the tissue and cups his cheek instead. “I cried way more than this when you woke up.”

“Hm,” Shinjiro says, letting the bittersweet memory come and go. Today isn’t the day for old regrets. “Guess that’s true.”

“Those were happy tears, too,” Akihiko murmurs. He slits his eyes open enough to glance around at their immediate table-mates, finds them occupied, and turns his head to kiss Shinjiro’s palm. Shinjiro’s breath hitches.

“You’re so gay,” he mumbles, catching Akihiko by the collar of his suit jacket to pull him in for a real kiss. Akihiko snickers against his lips.

“Pot, kettle,” he says, “And I can’t believe you said that at our _lesbian friend’s gay wedding_.”

“I’ll call you gay wherever I want, you can’t stop me,” Shinjiro says.

“A challenge if I ever heard one,” Akihiko laughs, kissing Shinjiro solidly again before he can say anything about Akihiko’s ridiculous competitive streak.

“Aw, guys, really?” Ken whines, from a few seats down.

“Let them be,” Mitsuru says, “I’ll get Aragaki in the face with my bouquet later, he can regret letting himself get romantic at my wedding then.”

 

By the time they’re halfway through the first dance, Yukari’s brain comes to terms with the fact that it’s _all real_.

“We’re married,” she says, smiling dopily up at Mitsuru.

“Mmhmm,” Mitsuru says, gently guiding her around in a waltz. The back of her skirt is pinned up so she doesn’t trip on the train of the dress. Somehow, it doesn’t ruin Mitsuru’s elegant and sophisticated look. “We are.”

“You’re my _wife_.”

“That I am.”

“I can kick the _ass_ of anyone who tries to hit on you now,” Yukari says, dreamily, and Mitsuru bursts into laughter so hard it’s almost the thing that finally makes her cry. In the end, she stays dry-eyed, and sends Yukari into a spin instead.

“I hadn’t realized that not being married was stopping you from doing that before,” Mitsuru says, amusedly.

“I mean,” Yukari says. “Now I can say, ‘hey, asshole, that’s my wife,’ instead of making up something about solidarity between girls and you clearly not being interested, even though that would also be fair.”

Mitsuru laughs again, and leans in to give her a quick peck on the lips. The song changes, and couples from the tables of guests start rising and trickling out onto the dance floor. Yukari slips out of the waltz position and presses closer to Mitsuru, wrapping her arms around Mitsuru’s shoulders. Mitsuru hums contentedly. Her hands settle at Yukari’s waist. Yukari knows she can’t keep Mitsuru to herself for the whole night--not until they leave the reception, anyway--but for now, she’ll hoard her attention jealously while she can.

“The catering is perfect,” Mitsuru says. They’re swaying in place more than anything that could be called dancing.

“Yeah,” Yukari says. “I mean, Shinjiro-san wouldn’t have recommended the company if he thought they would screw it up.”

Mitsuru hums thoughtfully. “The flowers and decorations were exactly as they were supposed to be, too.”

“What,” Yukari laughs. “Are you coping with the baffling realization that everything actually went the way it was supposed to?”

“Guilty as charged,” Mitsuru says, stepping back enough to force Yukari to draw forward after her. She’s suspicious that she’s about to be slowly wrangled into dancing for real again. “I supposed you got the same ‘she’ll be happy as long as she’s married to you at the end’ speech I did?”

“Started to,” Yukari says. Mitsuru sidesteps this time. Yukari makes a face that she hopes conveys _I know what you’re up to_ , but sidesteps along with her anyway. “But Shinjiro-san wasn’t on board with it, so it got a little derailed.”

“Oh? What was Aragaki’s problem?”

“He didn’t get why we should pretend we wouldn’t be upset if the wedding didn’t go the way we wanted.”

“Did he say to roll with the punches?” Mitsuru snorts.

“Uh, yeah,” Yukari says. “Something close, anyway. Why?”

“Akihiko said the same thing,” Mitsuru says. Her footwork is starting to pick up speed, and Yukari has no choice but to come along for the ride. “I suppose they both conveyed the same message, in the end.”

“Figures,” Yukari says. She lets Mitsuru lead her around in an ever-increasing circle of steps for a moment, just enjoying the warmth of her body and the softness of her skin. She smells nice, Yukari thinks. Clean and sweet and Yukari gets to wake up to this almost every day for the rest of her life. “What d’you want to do about the bouquets? It’d be awkward to throw them to the bridesmaids, I don’t want to put anyone on the spot--”

“Oh,” Mitsuru says. “That. Hold on.”

The bouquets are fairly light, as far as wedding bouquets go, and they’re waiting patiently in vases at the bridal party’s table. Yukari watches bemusedly as Mitsuru slips back between dancing couples to pluck her own bouquet out of its vase, then weave her way back through the crowd.

Yukari tracks her movement, frowning. She’s headed towards… Oh, no. She’s headed for Akihiko and Shinjiro, who are tucked into a calmer corner. Akihiko is evidently trying to teach Shinjiro how to dance.

Mitsuru really does throw the bouquet directly into Shinjiro’s face. He splutters, caught off guard, and bats it away. It bounces towards Akihiko, who catches it on instinct, and turns bright red as soon as his brain catches up with his hands.

Yukari’s too far away to hear or read lips, but Shinjiro snaps something at Mitsuru, looking a bit flushed himself. Mitsuru chirps back and turns on her heel.

“So much for not putting anyone on the spot,” Yukari says, resigned to amusement and sympathy for the boys by the time her bride has maneuvered back across the dance floor.

“They’ll live,” Mitsuru says, with zero sympathy. “Neither of them are likely to give it a second thought unless they already were anyway. I doubt they’ll feel pressured. And I _did_ technically give Aragaki prior warning.”

“If you say so,” Yukari says. She lowers her voice. “D’you think it’s okay to give mine to Chidori-san?”

Mitsuru raises an eyebrow, offering Yukari her hands so they can fall back into dancing position. “Yoshino? She might feel pressured.”

“Yeah, I guess, but,” Yukari does a quick scan of their immediate neighbors before she murmurs, “Junpei was planning to propose soon anyway.”

“I hadn’t realized that,” Mitsuru says. “All the same, it might be awkward for her. Maybe you could just give it to Minako.”

“Maybe,” Yukari says. She chews on her lower lip for a moment, then says, “What did Shinjiro-san say to you?”

Mitsuru smirks. “He called me a menace.”

“What’d you say?”

“I told him it takes one to know one.”

 

By the time they make it from the reception to a limo to their hotel, they’ve both had a little champagne, and Yukari feels like she’s made of the bubbles as she and Mitsuru tumble down on the bed.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Yukari mumbles, into the bared skin of Mitsuru’s throat. Mitsuru makes a breathy sound of pleasure when Yukari drags a hint of teeth across. “You’re all mine, my wife, my Mitsuru--”

“God, Yukari, you’re--” Mitsuru gasps, half-laughing at Yukari’s eager, fumbling hands trying to find the zipper on her dress. It’s _too_ good a dress, too well-made, too well-fitting with a zipper too discrete, where _is_ it-- “You’ve always been so-- _possessive--_ mmm--”

“ _Mine_ ,” Yukari insists, when she finally wraps her fingers around the zipper and tugs it open. There’s so _much_ of Mitsuru, and it’s all Yukari’s now.

“Yours,” Mitsuru agrees, gently touching Yukari’s cheek, then drags her down to tangle in the sheets.

 

Yukari wakes up wrapped in a hotel comforter so soft it feels like a cloud.

“Mm,” she sighs, rolling around the bed in search of Mitsuru’s warm, soft body. When she only finds cold, empty sheets, she frowns in sleepy confusion. She opens her eyes, squinting; when this doesn’t reveal Mitsuru’s location, she sits up in bed. A moment of listening, when she gets her sleep-muzzy brain to focus, reveals the sounds of a shower running. Yukari would be offended that she wasn’t invited to share the shower, but then Mitsuru always did have trouble finding the heart to get Yukari up in the mornings.

She can also hear and smell the coffeemaker running in their suite’s kitchenette. She slips a bathrobe on and grabs her phone on her way out of bed. Nobody should be contacting her unless it’s an emergency, she made that abundantly clear to her agent, but it’s worth checking just in case.

No emergencies; just a text from Junpei.

8:21am: _U WONT FUCKING BELIEVE THE HEADLINES THIS MORNING LMAO CHECK [THIS ONE] OUT MINAKO-CHAN IS DYING_

Yukari cringes, a little. They were expecting a bit of backlash to their coming out, certainly, and there’s probably some….interesting articles cropping up in the aftermath of the wedding, but she was hoping not to deal with any of that until after the honeymoon. But surely Junpei wouldn’t have sent her anything like that on the morning after her _wedding night_ , right? Even Junpei couldn’t have _that_ little tact. He wouldn’t have sent her something actively _bad._

With some trepidation, she clicks the link.

 

Mitsuru almost slips on the tile and hits her head on the shower wall in her haste to scramble out of the bathroom when she hears the shriek.

“Yukari?” she calls, frantically, barely bothering to grab a towel on her way out. “Yukari, are you alright?”

“LOOK AT THIS,” Yukari yells, shoving her phone in Mitsuru’s face. Bewildered, Mitsuru wipes a hand dry on the towel and takes the phone. It’s a news article from a journal Mitsuru has no particularly strong feelings towards either way. At the top is a picture of Yukari and Mitsuru on the way out of the wedding venue, still wearing their dresses, holding their bouquets and each other’s hands, gazing at each other in clear adoration.

The article is titled _Celebrity Gal Pals Takeba Yukari and Kirijo Mitsuru Celebrate Friendship with Platonic Wedding_.

“Oh my god,” Mitsuru says, faintly.

“They GAL PAL’D my _WEDDING!_ ” Yukari yowls. “What is WRONG with straight people?! I didn’t go through all the stress of talking to my agent and PR about coming out so they could delude themselves into thinking it was somehow PLATONIC!”

“Yukari, _chérie_ ,” Mitsuru soothes, reaching for her shoulders. When Yukari doesn’t reject the contact, she smoothes her hands across her collarbones.

“Who the fuck has friendship weddings?” Yukari says, loudly, undeterred by Mitsuru’s increasingly intimate contact. “Straight people? It’d be better if they convinced themselves we’d actually married the boys! A fucking _platonic friendship wedding?_ ”

“ _Ma chère_ ,” Mitsuru says. “Media publications are a mystery. Our PR teams will take care of it. Don’t let it bother you.”

“How am I supposed to not let it bother me? I--oh. _Oh_.”

Oh, indeed, Mitsuru thinks, with a wry smile, stepping over the towel she’s let crumple to the floor. “I’m sure,” she says, “That I can find a method to divert your attention.”

“That works,” Yukari says, faintly, stumbling backwards as Mitsuru herds her back towards the bed. “Oh, the--the coffee--”

“We can reheat it later,” Mitsuru offers, silkily, as the backs of Yukari’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and she goes toppling down. Mitsuru follows her down, stretching out over her. “Let’s put that phone away, hm?”

“Yeah,” Yukari says, half-dropping and catching the phone twice as she tries to set it on the bedside table with overexcited hands. “Yeah.”

Mitsuru smiles the filthiest smile Yukari has ever seen.

 

Later, when Yukari has dozed off in the soft comforter again and Mitsuru finally has a chance to comb her still-damp hair, it occurs to Mitsuru to wonder how Yukari found the article. They both agreed to avoid the news for the duration of their honeymoon, and count on their respective companies and agencies to contact them in case of an emergency, so how did Yukari…

“Iori or Arisato,” Mitsuru murmurs to herself. Must have been one of them. It’s tempting to check Yukari’s phone to confirm, but even for something little and silly like this, she shouldn’t go through it without permission. She can ask Yukari when she wakes up. Tell her to pass along the message that Iori and/or Arisato shouldn’t be disrupting Mitsuru’s time with her new wife, while she’s at it.

She thinks about what Yukari said at the reception, about being able to go “hey, that’s my wife” instead of awkwardly skating around what they mean to each other. She’s right, Mitsuru decides, studying Yukari’s peaceful sleeping profile. She tucks a curl behind Yukari’s ear absentmindedly.

“That’s my wife,” she says, to herself, and feels absurdly pleased. A giddy smile crosses her face, and she leans down to whisper against Yukari’s temple, “My wife. _Mine_.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Shut Up And Dance by Walk the Moon: "deep in her eyes/i think i see a future/i realize this is my last chance/she took my arm/i don't know how it happened/we took the floor and she said..."  
> also! for any interested parties! [here](http://hopeisour4letteredword.tumblr.com/post/146391774273/its-yukamitsu-wedding-time-ft-akihiko-as-mitsurus) are my crummy doodles of yukari and mitsuru's wedding gowns, with akihiko and fuuka modeling the groomsmen (bridesmen?) and bridesmaid outfits.


End file.
